


We Do This By the Numbers

by Abbie



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Ghosts, Goodbyes, Haunting, Mission Fic, Multi, Tommy Merlyn is Alive, Tumblr Prompt, Undercover as Married
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-21 21:39:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2483351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abbie/pseuds/Abbie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles from a numbered list of prompts on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Breaking the Rules

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by ohemgeeitscoley, smoaking billionaires, "breaking the rules"

Oliver had lost the game _spectacularly_. So spectacularly that his payment meant he sat in one of Felicity’s wooden kitchen chairs, stripped to the waist, his hands white-knuckling on the back legs for control.

He wasn’t allowed to touch. No matter what.

Tommy knelt behind the chair, scraping his teeth down Oliver’s neck, eyes lifting to watch Felicity straddle Oliver’s lap as Tommy closed his mouth over Oliver’s pulse, biting down gently.

Felicity scooted forward on Oliver’s thighs until she was flush against him, grinning as he groaned plaintively.

“ _Felicity_ …”

She laughed. “Oliver, we are _just_ ,” she pressed the softest of kisses to his lips, pulling back as he tried to return the pressure, “getting started.”

Tommy’s hands reached through the slats of the chair to drag up Oliver’s waist, making him shudder as Tommy soothed the bite he’d given him with lingering, open-mouthed kisses. “Don’t think he’s gonna last long, Felicity.”

She grinned at them both wickedly, leaning back and stripping quickly out of her shirt. “Yeah? You think so?”

Oliver grunted, eyes following as if hypnotized as Felicity arched to reach back and undo the clasps of her bra.

Tommy chuckled throatily. “I think so.” He closed his mouth over the same spot he’d bitten and sucked sharply, making Oliver gasp, the muscles in his arms flexing.

Felicity leaned forward again, pressing all her bare skin along all of Oliver’s, looping her arms loosely over both his and Tommy’s shoulders. The tip of her nose just barely brushed against Oliver’s as she stared into his eyes, his dragging up from her mouth. “But you know the rules, don’t you, Oliver.”

One of Tommy’s hands slid down Oliver’s side and wiggled between his and Felicity’s bodies, dipping deeply south.

Oliver swore viciously in Mandarin. “ _Fuck_ the rules.” His hands released the chair legs and ran greedily up Felicity’s back, one cupping the back of her head as he crushed their mouths together.

Tommy laughed, rolling the heel of his hand to make Oliver break from Felicity’s lips with a gasping moan. “Oh, you are _so_ getting punished for this one.”


	2. A Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy has a proposal for Felicity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by ohemgeeitscoley, Flommy, "diamond"

"Tommy," Felicity drew his name out slowly, hesitantly. "What the _hell_ are you doing?”

He grinned up at her from one knee, right in the middle of the foundry. His hands offered up the most hideous, gaudy diamond ring she’d ever seen in her life, big enough Slade Wilson could use it for a false eye in a pinch. “I would’ve thought that was obvious Felicity.”

She blinked at the ugly jewelry piece, feeling like reality had settled a little off kilter and she was just out of step with the music of the universe. “Um. This is probably the most obvious confusing thing I’ve ever seen in my life. _What are you doing_.”

He chuckled, blue eyes crinkling at her in wicked delight. “Felicity Smoak, will you do me the honor of—”

Just then, the foundry door opened loudly, and Oliver came clattering down the steps. He took in the scene before him—Felicity gaping up at him helplessly, deer in the headlights, and Tommy resolutely staring at her with a shiteating grin.

Suddenly Oliver’s eyebrows snapped together, lips pressing in a thin line as he blew out a harsh breath through his nose. “Tommy, get the fuck off the floor and put that thing away.”

Tommy laughed, but climbed to his feet, shooting an amused glance at Felicity’s obviously relieved deflation before turning to Oliver. “It’s an engagement ring, Oliver, I didn’t whip my dick out.”

"I think I might have preferred that," Felicity muttered, fingertips pressing to her temple as she tried to blink the world back into sense.

Tommy shot her raised eyebrows, but Oliver blithely ignored her comment, fixing Tommy with a droll, long-suffering stare. “You know, it would have been okay if you’d left your shitty idea of a joke behind in the grave, buddy. I haven’t even had a chance to talk to her yet.”

Felicity’s attention snapped round to him, frown pulling at her lips. “Talk to me about _what_? About why Tommy just tried to _propose to me_?”

Oliver rolled his eyes, and Tommy shoved his hands—and the hideous ring—into his pockets, angling his body towards her. “Well, before we were so rudely interrupted, I _was_ going to ask you… Felicity, will you do me the honor of being my _fake_ wife?”

"Fake…?" she asked, confused.

Sighing, Oliver took over. “Dillibrand changed his itinerary at the last minute. He and his wife are going on a couples cruise that ships off on Friday. No singles.”

"Oh," Felicity said quietly, her understanding of the situation shifting at the mention of their target. Then, suddenly, she looked sharply up at Tommy, cheeks flooding with color. " _Oh_.”

Tommy filed away her unexpected blush as an interesting occurrence to dissect later. “Oh indeed. And considering I’ve been out of the public eye for almost two years, and Digg’s still out of town on mission with Lyla, and, well,” he winced, glancing at Oliver and rubbing his ear awkwardly, “er, Oliver’s _history_ with boating excursions, you and me are the best candidates for the job.”

She suddenly shot him a sour look. “And your idea of telling me the plan was springing a _fake proposal_ on me?” She rolled her eyes hard. “I thought you’d been drugged with something psychotropic.”

Tommy snorted, looking mildly offended. “Because I wouldn’t propose if I wasn’t on drugs?”

"Not to _me_ ,” she shot back scathingly, turning towards her computers, already planning in the back of her mind what gear to pack. Hurt flashed over his face, curiously, and she gentled her tone and offered him a rueful smile. “Ask a girl to dinner first.”

“ _Okay_ ,” Oliver interrupted, shifting uncomfortably and folding his arms over his chest. “Does that mean you’re in, Felicity?”

She nodded sharply, settling into her chair and pulling up a new program. “I’m ready to get this dirtbag. I’m cooking up identities from scratch, I assume? Since I clearly can’t go as _Mrs. Merlyn_.”

Tommy smiled, but Oliver eyed the stiffness of it. “Nice a ring as that has, how do you feel about being a _Smythe_?”

Felicity wrinkled her nose, already hard at work. “I’m _nooot_ loving it.”

Oliver rolled his eyes at them both, but couldn’t help the amused curl of his mouth. “How about you two be Mr. and Mrs. Havisham, of the Hamtpon Havishams.”

Felicity snickered at the falsely snooty tone Oliver employed. “I think I like it.”

Tommy waggled his eyebrows at Oliver. “Only if I get to be named something really ridiculous, like _Aloysius_.”

Felicity hummed negatively. “Too late, I’m keeping you Thomas. Less chance of a slip up. I’ll be Megan.” She paused, fingers stilling on the keyboard as she looked over her shoulder at the boys. “…How long is this cruise?”

Tommy grinned widely, sidling closer to her, amused by her wary eyeballing. “You get to be married to me for a whole week, Mrs. Havisham.”

Felicity snorted, folding her lips in on a smile. “Only if you promise to put something less… horrifying on my finger.”

Tommy pressed a hand to his chest, faking offense. “That diamond is a family _heirloom_. I got it out of the vault for you special.”

She smiled up at him sweetly. “And you can put it _back_ for me special, too.”

Oliver sighed loudly. “I regret this plan already.”


	3. You Are My Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy has a realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by ohemgeeitscoley, Flommy, "sunlight"

It hit Tommy about as hard and unexpectedly as a sack of bricks.

In the year since the Undertaking, he and Felicity had gone from near-stranger acquaintances to affectionate friends. So much so, he sometimes wished he’d had the good fortune to meet her much, much sooner.

(This was until he’d realize that had she met the him of many years ago, she might not have liked him very much.)

She made him laugh. It was mutual, really, but there had been months at a time after the quake where he hadn’t thought there was much worth laughing about in the world. Felicity hadn’t exactly made a concerted effort to get him smiling and cracking jokes again, but that had made the effect that much more… poignant nevertheless.

She also called him on his bullshit. Hell, she called everyone around her on their bullshit, and while it was a glorious sight to behold watching her go toe to toe with Oliver and never really come out the loser, it could be an uncomfortable experience to be on the receiving end of. Uncomfortable, but necessary.

(He’d hit a bad patch where he’d started sliding into bitterness, swallowing down resentment for Laurel and their broken relationship like poison. Felicity got sick of listening to him “piss and moan” and told him frankly to grow up and learn to let go. It hadn’t been easy to hear. It’d been a lot less easy to _do_. But he’d still needed to hear it, and was grateful, later, she’d had both the empathy and the toughness to _say_ it when Oliver’s guilt had kept his mouth grimly shut.)

The friendship between Tommy and Felicity only took on deeper shades as time went on. He dragged her away from her computers for meals at restaurants, and pizza and beers and movies at her place or his. They stayed up far too late talking about pointless garbage—and eventually about the heavy, painful things that mattered.

It constantly shocked Tommy, how many strokes of the same brush their lives had been painted with. There were things in their histories that resonated like corresponding tuning forks, and it was like the lonely broken pieces of them recognized each other.

A year and change later, and Tommy probably had more family than he’d ever thought he might. But something about Felicity was different. He didn’t think on it much, and when he did he couldn’t tease out words to say _how_ she was different to him. What was important was that she _was_ , and that he valued that.

That was enough.

Until it wasn’t.

It was, like most epiphanies, wholly unexpected. They were just sitting on the bench of a picnic table in the park on her lunch break, facing out and watching people play with their dogs in the grass rolling down the hill.

He’d finished his burrito from their favorite cart vendor and glanced over with a fond smile, to see her sitting there, brow furrowing in concentration as she tried to keep her burrito from spilling its contents out of a soggy patch on the side, and his grin grew with a quiet chuckle.

His chest squeezed as the sunlight played in her hair, the breeze shifting the loose strands to make it look like molten gold, and his smile softened as he thought, _God, I love her so much_.

And half a heartbeat later, his spine stiffened and his smile froze, the breath catching in his throat in shock and mild terror at the word—and all its depth—that he’d so easily thought.

 _He loved her_.


	4. Button Noses and Kisses with Tongue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity is called to Tommy's place for an emergency.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by thediggles, Flommy, "puppy love"

Felicity stood at the door of Tommy’s apartment, frown on her lips and phone to her ear. She’d already knocked twice with no answer.

When his voicemail beeped at her to leave a message, her voice was infused with equal parts annoyance and concern. “Tommy, _you_ texted me to come over, 911 emergency, and I swear to god, if you are messing with me or—or if something has happened to you I am going to _kill you—_ ”

Just then the door swung open, and Tommy stood there, hair mussed and looking breathless and frazzled and unfairly handsome for it in his navy tee shirt and black jeans. “Felicity, thank _god_.”

"I knocked twice, you jerk, why didn’t you—" it was only then that she noticed the squirming, curly brown bundle in the crook of his arm. "What is _that_.”

"An emergency," Tommy sighed, contorting suddenly to squeeze the bundle—animal?—to his body as it tried to escape. He shuffled backwards in his socked feet, pulling the door wide. "Come in, please?"

"I am _so_ confused,” Felicity muttered, moving through the doorway and quickly shrugging out of her coat and draping it on its usual hook inside the door. “Is that a _dog_? Since when do you have a dog?”

"It’s a puppy," he snarked back liltingly. "And I _don’t_.” He frowned down at it in extreme consternation. “I swear to god I don’t. I went down the street for coffee and it started following me home. I tried to shoo it away, but it got in the building behind me and I couldn’t chase it back out the door! And then Mrs. Fitzwilliams came down to get her mail, and it was snatch the little mutt and tote it upstairs or be cornered by her war stories for the next two hours.”

Felicity smiled wryly, leaning forward to squint at the writhing, tiny canine as Tommy maneuvered it against his chest. “I think it’s really cool that she’s a World War II survivor. Her stories are amazing.”

Tommy rolled his eyes, stilling so Felicity could scrub her fingertips through the puppy’s wildly curly fur. “Yes, she’s incredibly inspiring, but her stories are very _long_ , every time. I hear at least two a week, Felicity. I try to keep it at that quota or below so that I have time to _live_ outside of her presence.”

"Hi, little guy," Felicity’s face blossomed in a grin as the puppy’s face resolved in the fur, tiny little snout with bitty teeth and lolling tongue, and dark button eyes.

Tommy’s breath caught at the way Felicity’s eyes sparkled, nose wrinkling as the little puppy let out a high yap and licked at her fingers. “I think it might be a girl, actually. Hard to say through the fur.”

Felicity straightened, still scratching at the wriggly dog’s small, floppy ears as she shot Tommy a droll look. “So this is your definition of an emergency?”

He shrugged one shoulder awkwardly. “I don’t know anything about dogs. I mean, I wanted one when I was a kid, as one does, but Dad never—anyways, I don’t know anything about dogs.”

She pulled a face at him, the puppy whining between them as her hands went to her hips, head tilting to one side. “So you thought, ‘hey, Felicity seems like the person to ask about dogs’?” She shook her head. “Hate to break it to you, Merlyn, but I’m a cat person.”

The rims of Tommy’s ears pinkened. “I just—I don’t know, I panicked? I thought of you.”

The puppy barked loudly, and Tommy breathed a quiet sigh of relief at the distraction. That had probably been edging into extreme awkwardness.

Felicity reached out and scooped the dog away from Tommy, holding it under the front legs and peering at its belly. “I think you might be right about it being a girl. Are you keeping her?”

"I can’t," Tommy said, trying for irritability and hitting rueful instead. "The apartment has a no pets policy, and anyways my hours are too," he made a seesawing motion with his hand, and Felicity nodded understandingly. Suddenly, Tommy grinned winsomely and stopped closer, hands sliding into his pockets. "Maybe you should take her home?"

Felicity snorted, turning the puppy around and pushing her back into Tommy’s chest, who caught her little wriggling butt in the palm of his hand. “Nice try. But I will help you find her a home or at least a no-kill shelter.” She bit her lip against a grin as the little puppy stood against Tommy’s chest, tiny tongue reaching for his chin and jaw. “Besides, she seems so in love with you.”

Laughing, Felicity walked with her purse into his living room, and Tommy stared after her, standing still for a moment as the puppy slobbered all over his chin. Glancing down at her admittedly adorable face, he sighed. “At least someone is.”


	5. It Feels Better Biting Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy is wounded in a crisis at the foundry, and Felicity provides emergency aid at her home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by thediggles, Flommy, "bite"
> 
> (But the direction it took is definitely Coley's fault. And a little bit Rosie's.)

"You know," Tommy griped breathlessly, through gritted teeth, "you’d think there’d have been a better way to bring me back from the dead than this."

Felicity scoffed, hands trembling as she helped lower Tommy onto her couch. The shaking of her fingers became truly inconvenient as they fumbled on the buttons of her cardigan, and she swore as she popped the last two free and stripped out of it, dropping it on the coffee table behind her, leaving her in just a peach camisole and her bra. “While the vampirism is admittedly not _ideal_ , I think I speak for the whole team when I say we’re willing to take the trade-off. It’s better than you in the ground.”

Tommy sighed as he leaned carefully back into cushions, wincing and cradling his left side. He had at least three broken ribs. “I admit the healing thing is a good bonus. Just not super happy about the whole bloodsucking thing that has to happen first.”

Felicity laughed shakily, sitting cautiously beside him. “Not sure anyone’s a big fan of that part. But Tommy, come on.” She bit her lip, looking at him earnestly as he peered at her from the corner of his eye. “The foundry’s compromised, we’re scattered across the city and communications are down. We need you to be okay.”

Tommy clenched his jaw, resolutely shutting his eyes. “Felicity… it’s not a good idea. I stick to the bagged stuff for a reason, alright? It’s… different, feeding live.” His cheeks colored, and it triggered a flush in Felicity’s own face. “We can just rest a few hours. I’ll heal slower, but enough to be ambulatory.”

Felicity gnawed her lip, impatient. “Tommy, we don’t know that we’ll _have_ a few hours. What if they come here next? We might need to run, and you need to be _able_ to run.”

He swallowed hard, opening his eyes to pin her with a hard, surprisingly dark stare. “I really don’t think you know what you’re offering, Felicity. It’s not—”

"It’s _mine_ to offer,” she snapped, hand landing on his knee and squeezing. “Unless you’re gonna be in danger of ripping my throat out or, or you just don’t, I don’t know, you don’t _want_ to feed from me—”

He interrupted her with a harsh laugh, sitting forward slightly and grimacing. “Don’t _want_ to? Felicity, are you out of your mind?” He bit his lip, a hint of fang peeking, his eyes sliding down from her long, bare throat to her thin cami and the anchor-patterned skirt that only hit mid-thigh. “ _Wanting_ isn’t the problem.” He swallowed, dragging his gaze back to hers with effort, then clearing his throat. “Or actually, it kind of is.”

Felicity’s brow furrowed, not following him. Blowing a sharp breath out, she raised her hand from his knee to rest it on his elbow. “Tommy, I trust you.”

He gritted his teeth at her, fangs bared and sending a thrill of alarm—and mild anticipation—through her. Color high, he blew out a loud exhale, brows lowering as he seriously held her gaze. “You’re not _getting it_. It’s—there’s—when I feed _from_ someone, there’s… I…” He swore, closed his eyes, started again. “…It’s not just _blood_ lust, Felicity.”

She blinked, lips pursing in surprise. “…Oh.”

His eyes dropped to her throat, and the tip of his tongue wet his lips, lingering. Voice low and scratchy, he continued, “It’s worse when it’s someone I’m… attracted to anyways.”

Felicity felt heat flood her face. “ _Oh_.”

Inhaling slowly for control, Tommy met her eyes again. “ _Oh_. So you see why we can’t—”

"Tommy," she interrupted softly, fingers tightening on his arm and cheeks still pink. "I said I trust you."

Tommy’s eyes went wide, the small amount of blue in them vanishing under the black of his blown pupils. “…Oh.” His lips parted, his fangs lengthening in anticipation. “Uh. Are you—Felicity, are you _sure_?”

Holding his dark gaze, she suppressed a shiver and nodded. “I’m sure.” Scooting closer to him on the couch, she glanced down, then back up at him, lower lip between her teeth. “How should I—what will make this easier?”

Swallowing thickly, he seemed already to forget the pain of his ribs, angling his body towards her on the couch cushions. “Pull a knee up.” She did, tucking her foot under her as she turned more towards him. His fingertips just barely grazed her bent knee, drawing up one of his own and wedging it between her thigh and the couch back. “Good. Closer.”

Blowing out a shaky breath to steady her nerves, Felicity shifted closer, between his legs. “Is this okay?” His eyes were roving over her neck and shoulders, mouth damp and open, and he nodded. “Should I… is there a point I should stop you? So you don’t… take too much?”

His lips curled into a smile, and he met her eyes again. “No, we’ll be fine. I don’t actually need all that much blood. You donate more to the Red Cross than I usually need. It’s sips.” His smile slipped a little, eyes dropping from hers again, this time to her mouth. “The trouble is getting caught up in the… rest of it.” His hand slid along her knee, fingers spreading over her lower thigh. “You’ll be in control. I promise you, the minute you throw on the brakes, it’s done.”

Sudden worry clenched in Felicity’s gut as she settled her hand on his shoulder. “Tommy. Are you—are _you_ okay with this?” She bit her lips again. “I know I was kind of pushy…”

A bright grin spread on his face, halting her breath with the reminder that sometimes, he was truly _beautiful_. “Felicity. I trust you.” She smiled back, chin ducking at his echo of her sentiments. His fingers curled beneath her jaw, gently guiding her face back up. “This will only hurt for a second. I promise.”

She started to nod, stopping as he leaned in and down, goosebumps raising across her shoulders and down her arms as his cool breath fanned over her neck.

His lips touched the thrumming pulse in her throat with incredible gentleness, pressing a soft, almost reverently grateful kiss against her skin. When his mouth opened and his tongue pressed hot and wet over her vein, she gasped, the hand on his shoulder clenching in the fabric of his sweater. “Tommy.”

He shuddered as she breathed his name, and after a heartbeat of hesitation, his fangs bit into her, firm and fast, a sharp pinch of pain only a little more shocking than getting a flu shot. His teeth withdrew almost as quickly as they punched through her vein, and his mouth sealed around the bite, his hands sliding down to grip her waist, tugging her closer into his body.

Felicity’s head lolled more to the side as Tommy slowly sipped and lapped at her throat, sending surprising warm tingles flooding down into her fingertips, pooling heat in her belly. Her eyes slipped closed and she lost herself to the feel of his mouth on her, tongue a slow drag over her wounds. His fingers pulled at the slippery fabric of her camisole, inching it up until her bare waist was under his palms.

She slowly unclenched her fingers from his shirt, sliding her hand up to cup the back of his neck, fingertips slipping into the hair at his nape. She scratched her nails along his scalp and, as if overly sensitive, he moaned against her neck, the vibrations pulling a low sound from her own throat.

His mouth pulled free of her neck and he groaned, “ _Felicity_. God, _shit_.”

"Are you—is that…" she swallowed. "Was that enough?"

He hesitated, then shook his head, lips still barely off her skin. “Healing enzymes in my saliva. Holes are closing. Need to reopen them.”

Licking her lips, Felicity breathed in deeply twice, exhaling long and steady, then nodded. “Do what you need to do.”

He raised his head, seeking out her eyes, his own drowning dark. His fangs were still lengthened, pushing at his upper lip. He visibly hesitated, breathing hard, then squeezed her waist in his hands. “Lie back.”

The little hairs on Felicity’s arms rose, but she nodded, holding Tommy’s gaze as she shifted more towards the middle of the couch and slowly leaned back on her hands. Before her back hit the cushions, Tommy moved onto his knees and began crawling over her.

Slowly, he lowered his weight over hers, settling mostly to one side, between her and the back of the couch. His face was so close she couldn’t focus on anything else, mesmerized by those deep black eyes and the heavy sweep of his lashes as he glanced down, then back up at her.

"Is this okay?"

She nodded, voice lodged in her throat.

He smiled quickly, nervous. “Okay. I’m just going to…” He trailed off, leaning over and across her so their chests pressed together, lips finding her throat again.

Felicity gasped, surprised at the sensitivity of the skin around the healing bite as his mouth whispered over it, making her thighs squeeze together and hands clench on the couch cushions.

Just as suddenly as the last time, he bit down, fangs puncturing the skin afresh and withdrawing just as quickly, leaving him to sip sweetly from her vein. His hand crept slowly across her stomach, her camisole catching on his fingers and dragging along, leaving bare skin in his wake. His thumb skipped over her navel and she whimpered softly, slipping an arm around his back and clutching at him for dear life.

He panted against her skin, one leg crooking over her thighs, pressing his hips against hers and dispelling any doubt about how much this was affecting him as well.

"Oh, god, Tommy," Felicity breathed, wriggling to get more underneath him and rolling her hips up into him.

He swore into her neck, responding in kind, shifting his weight more evenly atop her, coming to rest between her thighs as she parted them for him. “Felicity…”

Slipping her hands under his shirt, she slid her palms up his back and arched against him, clamping her legs around his hips. Hoarse and a little harsh, she demanded, “Are you done?”

Growling a little, he pushed his own hands under her camisole, spanning her ribcage and curving his thumbs beneath her breasts. “ _No_.”

He needed no further reprimand, locking his mouth over his bite and sucking sharply, once twice, startling a low cry out of her as he simultaneously pushed his hips into her, rubbing rhythmically.

Felicity gasped her breaths, little soft noises in her open mouth as he moved against her, one of his hands palming her breast through her bra, gently massaging.

Abruptly, he pulled off of her neck, lifting his face over hers so their noses brushed, his eyes dark slits and so very close. “I got what I needed.”

She swallowed, freezing a little, suddenly flooded with uncertainty—but then he brushed his lips over hers, once. Again.

"Now tell me what you want."

He drew back enough to look her solemnly in the eye, and she stared up at him trying to gauge a hundred thousand possibilities, risks and rewards in the spiraling, growing blue. Her hands, still under his shirt, pressed down, fingernails biting into the skin.

"You. I want you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really not supposed to be part of Rosie's and my Bound by Blood AU. But, er, she thought it was for a second and then certain tags on the post on Tumblr got a little out of hand... a few times...


	6. If I Cannot Have the Real Thing (I'll Gladly Settle For Your Ghost)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their time is coming to an end, and Tommy asks for a last dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by anonymous, Flommy, "last dance" and "fade away"

Felicity pushed out the employee access door of Verdant and staggered, shaking, into the dimly-lit alley, a furious stinging in her eyes and blooms of heat in her cheeks while the rest of her face felt horridly cold.

“Felicity.”

She stiffened, fingers twisting in her loose cream skirt, jaw clenching against her trembling chin.

A sigh. “Felicity, look at me.”

Stubborn and contrary, she turned her head in the opposite direction—and gasped to find herself staring right at a ruefully smirking Tommy Merlyn.

“That’s not fair,” she blurted.

He shook his head, hands in the pockets of his charcoal black slacks. He stepped closer towards her, stopping only once he stood in her space, the slight chill rolling off of him raising goosebumps up her arms to disappear under her cap sleeves. “That’s the point.” He pulled a hand out of his pocket, raising it to just a whisper away from the curve of her cheek. His fingers twitched, as if itching to trace her skin, deep blue eyes fond and sad. “It’s time, Felicity. It’s over, we did it.”

She squeezed her eyes shut as tight as her fists, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth. “You don’t _know_ that, Tommy, it might not have even been—”

“ _Felicity_ ,” he laughed, exasperated. Heartbroken. “My time’s just about up. I can _feel_ it, okay?”

She opened her eyes, tears spiking and beading on her lashes as she looked up at him miserably. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I know,” he whispered hoarsely, giving in and tracing the tip of his middle finger along the high arch of her cheekbone. They both sucked in  sharp breaths at the unexpected _sensation_.

Felicity’s lips parted as she stared up at him in shock and dawning acceptance, her face filling his palm as she leaned into it. He was _warm_.

Tommy laughed again, a damp, helpless sound. “It really is ending, _god_. One last cruel little gift.”

“Tommy,” she breathed, voice strangled by a sob she couldn’t set free. Her fingers unwound from her skirt, slipped up the edges of his jacket to clutch his lapels. “This isn’t fair. You can’t go, you _can’t_ go, not when—not when we finally—not when I never got to _be_ part of your life.”

His own eyes flooded and he blinked hard, lips pressing thin as he swallowed thickly. “Damn it.” He forced a weak smile for her. “I wish I’d known you then, Felicity. Wish I’d paid attention. I didn’t—didn’t know how bad I needed to _know_ you.” His fingers slid back around her ear, burying in her hair.

She breathed in, shaky, eyes falling shut and lips tucking in to keep them from trembling. Brow crumpling, she let her head fall forward, just barely brushing his chest.

There should have been a warm, steady beat to ground her.

Just silence and a mild warmth.

Tommy wrapped his arms loosely around her shoulders, blowing out a loud, unsteady breath over her head. Suddenly, he squeezed her. “Felicity.” She lifted her head, now looking at him as if drinking him in, memorizing; unsure how much longer she’d have to commit this face to memory. “Dance with me.”

She blinked, a startled confusion blanking her face as she turned an ear to the muffled, thumping bass seeping through the club’s walls. “Uh. Tommy, not to ruin the moment, but I’m not sure the bump and grind is really how I want this to end.”

He threw his head back as he laughed, grinning, an echo of honest humor and friendly mischief. “Who gives a shit about the music?” He looked down on her in much the same manner she’d looked at him, as if he could tuck her away in what memory of a heart he had and carry her with him when he—when he—

His hands slid down her arms, slow and gentle, tugging her hands up to rest them on his shoulders. “There is _so_ much I never knew I’d want to do with you, Felicity.” His hands fell low on her waist, pulling her in a little closer. His forehead dropped against hers, the tips of their noses pressing together. “So much we’ll never _get_ to do.”

His breath, lying-hot, fanned over her mouth. “So much I _want_ to do.”

She shivered, hands sliding to hook her wrists behind his neck.

She looked back up into his eyes, her cheeks flushing to realize she’d been staring at his mouth.

He smiled, small and fond and painfully real to her. “Be my last dance.”

Heart a hurtful fist in her chest, she just barely nodded. His face lit up like a sun.

Gently squeezing her waist, he sidestepped, guiding her into a slow, swaying circle. A quiet hum vibrated in his throat, some half-familiar tune, and it took her a long moment to realize the rhythm they were keeping was the beat of her heart.

Just for this last stolen moment, chests and hips and regrets aligned, they could share it.

They kept each other’s eyes for a long (little) while, until Tommy’s slipped slowly, slowly down.

“Fuck it,” he breathed, harsh and a little angry. “I get _one_ more thing I want.”

She inhaled sharply and he dipped his head, slanting his mouth, hot and firm and greedy the way the living can only aspire to, over hers.

It wasn’t a soft, sad, chaste kiss of goodbye. It was pressing lips, nibbling teeth, and the delicious shock of his tongue sliding against hers. It was hot and alive—a lie—and the bitter whisper of things that couldn’t be.

The kiss seemed to go on forever—but was over too soon, when he parted from her mouth to let her breathe.

“Tommy,” she sighed, lashes fluttering to open.

Suddenly, her arms dropped, cold air filling their circle as she opened her eyes to an empty alley.

She was alone.

He was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS STUPID FUCKING DRABBLE HURT TO WRITE, OKAY. Also, the title is from (the song that in my head, Tommy was totally humming as they danced) is "Beloved" by April Smith & the Great Picture Show.


End file.
